


Laichzeit

by Wahnsinn



Series: Rammstein one-shots [11]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Burns, COVID-19, Fertility Issues, Friendship, Idiots in Love, Injury, M/M, Surgeons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28195026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wahnsinn/pseuds/Wahnsinn
Summary: The star surgeon of a hospital needs help with acquiring some medication.Written as a part of a Secret Santa Fiction Exchange.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Paul Landers
Series: Rammstein one-shots [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730041
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35
Collections: Rammstein - Secret Santa Christmas Exchange





	Laichzeit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maydependent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maydependent/gifts).



> This fiction is for the Secret Santa Fiction Exchange of the Fanfic United Discord server, where the random draw gave me my friend [maydependent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maydependent/).
> 
> Her wishes:  
> \- Almost anything with Reesh goes  
> \- Just surprise me! (Love mutual pining though)  
> \- My primary school teacher forbade us to end stories "then he woke up and it was just a dream," so don't do that.
> 
> I hope this fiction fulfils her wishes. Merry Christmas!

“Scalpel.”

As soon as the blade was put in his gloved hand, he cut into the skin with trained fingers. The procedure didn’t take long. It had long ago become routine, though he still took pride in making sure everything was perfect.

With small, delicate stitches he closed the incision. His assisting surgeon had glanced at him to see if he wanted him to close, but he had chosen to do it himself. The look and the chuckle he got in return made him shake his head before focusing on the work.

\-- 

“Nice job in there.” Removing his face mask, the tall, bearded man smiled playfully before disposing of his gloves, cap, and surgical gown. “It seems like our star surgeon has taken a special interest in our patient. Herr Schneider is awfully cute, but I have to remind you that he is married and that he is here to get help with having children.”

“Oh come on.” Paul Landers rolled his eyes at the bad joke, but he did appreciate the concern he knew was behind it. After a bad break with his long-term partner he had buried himself in work, almost burning out in the process.

Oliver Riedel had been his colleague, friend, and anchor throughout it. When Paul had taken on ridiculous workloads to forget, he had been there to relieve him of a good chunk of it. When Paul forgot to eat because he was busying himself with anything other than himself, Oliver had brought him food and invited him for dinner and company. And when Paul needed to rant, he had silently closed the door to their shared office and listened.

“Okay, okay,” Oliver said as he scrubbed his hands. “What is it then about this Christoph Schneider? Is it because he is a famous musician?”

Paul huffed. “Not at all. I guess it’s just that his intense wish for a family and willingness to do anything to achieve that makes me wish I had one myself. Which reminds me, I think he is a great candidate for the new experimental drug that had great results in increasing sperm production. It’s in clinical trials right now.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “SperMax? Even if you should be able to get him into the trial, I heard it costs a fortune. Is he paying for it himself?”

“No, there is no way they are going to let him buy himself a spot in the trial. It will have to go through the hospital, like for everyone else.” Paul threw his towel in a bin. “I am going to see Lorenz now. Wish me luck.”

\-- 

“SperMax? I’m sure you are aware of how much that costs, dr. Landers.” Christian Lorenz looked less than thrilled at Paul’s request.

“I know. But this patient is a perfect candidate, and the varicocelectomy was a success. I am confident that he will get into the trial if we request it. We can help a man fulfil his greatest wish here.” Paul crossed his arms defiantly.

The head of the surgical department straightened his glasses. “You of all people should know that not all wishes come true, not even for famous people,” he said. “But I can hear that you’re passionate about this one. The department can’t afford the asking price. But...”

Paul’s face lit up. “...but what? What do I need to do?”

Lorenz smirked. “Talk to Kruspe in procurement and get him to bargain a good deal for it. If he can get the price down to something within reason, you can have your SperMax.”

_Procurement._

Paul had heard that getting something special from there was harder than extracting an accidental lightbulb from a tight ass. “Is there no other way?”

“Afraid not. Oh, and you probably need to schedule an online meeting. I think the entire department has a home office nowadays.” The lanky man pointed towards the door. “I have things to do. Good luck, Landers.”

Paul sighed. “Thanks,” he muttered. He could have sworn the department head chuckled as he let himself out.

\-- 

Richard Z. Kruspe’s jaw was almost hitting his chest. He read the email once more, then again just to be sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. With almost trembling hands, he opened Skype and hit call. The familiar ringtone went on for a little too long, but finally, his colleague Till Lindemann’s familiar and slightly grumpy face showed up on his screen. 

“Till! Guess who just asked for a meeting with me!” Richard chirped into his headset.

“Clearly someone important since you couldn’t just send me a message,” Till replied dryly, adjusting his webcam. Behind him, Richard could see a backdrop quite different from his own kitchen cabinets. Till’s laptop was set up in a lush garden, and the hammock hanging between two apple trees was still moving.

Richard frowned. “Oh come on. Humour me. Or are you too eager to get back to your hammock?”

For a second, Till looked slightly guilty, but he seemed to resist the urge to look behind him to see what gave him away. Instead, he lifted a glass of what looked suspiciously similar to a beer. “Fine. That new guy from accounting that you thought was hot?”

“Till!” Richard sighed. “Do you think I’d call you up if someone from accounting wanted a meeting? We meet with them all the time!”

Till took a sip from his glass. “Oh, I know!” he grinned. “It must have been Angela Merkel calling to beg Herr Kruspe to please cut a great deal for the covid-19 vaccine for Germany!”

“Fuck you, Lindemann,” Richard pouted. “I get it, you’re not going to be serious about this.”

The sad look on his face must have awakened Till’s compassion. “I’m sorry,” he said, and for once, it sounded like he meant it. “I’m bad at guessing games, and I really have no idea. Who is it?”

Still a little miffed, Richard contemplated making up a silly story as revenge, but he was too excited to bother. He couldn’t help smiling as he read the email to his friend. “Dear Herr Kruspe, I have some urgent matters to discuss with you, and I kindly request a meeting as soon as your schedule allows. Looking forward to receiving your meeting invitation. Best regards, Paul H. Landers.”

The look on Till’s face was priceless. “Paul Landers?” he gasped.

“Paul Landers.”

“ _The_ Paul Landers? The surgeon who became a national hero after saving that politician’s life?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well holy shit.” Till scratched his head. “I didn’t know those guys ever talked to us. I thought they had _people_ to do that for them.”

Richard laughed. “Apparently not.”

“And he didn’t say what he wanted?”

“No. But I mean -” Richard made a fake posh voice, “ _I have some urgent matters to discuss with you…_ He sounds like a cocky bastard.”

It was Till’s turn to laugh. “He’s a surgeon! That’s probably how they write!”

Richard huffed. “Well, he is going to get a reply in procurement language,” he said, and started typing, reading out each word. “0830 tomorrow, invitation attached. -R. Z. K. Send.” With an exaggerated motion, he pressed send.

“I didn’t know there was a procurement language.” Till took a sip from his glass.

Richard lifted his own coffee cup. “Well, time is money,” he smiled. “Perhaps I have better things to do than to talk to stuck up surgeons with bad haircuts.”

Till rolled his eyes. “There wasn’t anything wrong with his haircut when you drooled over him back when he was all over the news.”

“Did not! I may have mentioned that he had a nice body, but...” 

“Exactly, drooling over him,” Till said. “Anyway - about having better things to do - my hammock is calling for me. I _love_ working from home. Let me know how the meeting goes, okay? Don’t let him wrap you around his fingers! Later!”

The call ended. Till disappeared, and Richard stared blankly at his screen. For some reason, the only thing on his mind was dr. Landers’s fingers.

\-- 

The email notification sound made Paul perk up in his chair. “Not a man of many words, this Kruspe,” he said as he quickly accepted the meeting invitation. “ _0830 tomorrow, invitation attached._ I hope he’s not as stingy with time as he is with words.”

Oliver glanced over at him. “It’s probably just how procurement officers write. You assume he’s a boring nerd, too, right?” he remarked before turning back to his computer.

Paul shrugged. “And you don’t? He probably has glasses and wears a white shirt and a dark tie.”

“Says the guy walking around in scrubs all day,” Oliver chuckled.

“Hey! I have to!” Paul complained, tossing a pen at his friend.

Oliver ducked elegantly, and the pen hit the wall. “What if _he_ has to wear a shirt and tie?”

Paul sunk back into his chair. “Why do you always have to be so logical,” he sighed.

“Maybe that’s just how surgeons are,” Oliver grinned. “Well, most of us, anyway.”

“Fuck you, Riedel,” Paul replied and threw another pen at Oliver, who had no problems dodging that one, too. 

\-- 

Trained fingers trailed across his chest. A warm tongue licked his nipples. Paul’s bright smile seemed mischievous as his fingers moved further down. Richard threw his head back, and Paul kissed his neck greedily. It felt so good...

The alarm clock pulled Richard violently from his dreams. Cursing, he slapped the snooze button and squeezed his eyes shut again. Dozing off, he saw Paul's smiling face, welcoming him back into his arms... 

...only to get brutally ripped from them again. With another loud curse he turned the alarm clock fully off, sinking back into the pillow, wanting just one more glimpse of the hot surgeon who was still waiting for him.

With a jerk, Richard sat up in bed. _Fuck._ He had fallen asleep. A desperate glance at the clock told him that he only had a few minutes until he had a meeting with a certain doctor that he had just had a very different kind of meeting with in his dreams.

Grabbing his glasses and stumbling out of bed, he went to the kitchen to turn on his computer and the kettle, followed by a quick visit to the bathroom for a pee. Richard caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His hair was standing straight up instead of lying flat. He totally looked like he had just gotten out of bed - which was the truth, yet absolutely not the way he wanted to look for a meeting with the star surgeon of the hospital.

Richard quickly splashed some water in his face and in his hair which refused to lie down the way it normally did. In frustration, he decided to style it into some kind of messy spikes that he hoped would look like a thought through bed head look. He grabbed the first garment he could find, a white shirt, tucked it into his boxers, and just as he pulled a pre-tied dark tie over his head, the alarm went off on his phone, signalling that it was time for the meeting.

Thank god for video meetings, he thought as he straightened his tie. The water kettle had just boiled, and after allowing himself a few seconds to make a cup of instant coffee, he finally sat down and reached for the mouse to start the meeting. The kitchen chair was cold and uncomfortable against his bare thighs, but he could deal with that. A few seconds later, the request to join the meeting popped up on his screen. Richard took a deep breath, then exhaled.

_Accept._

A strangely familiar, bright smile flashed against him. “Good morning - Herr Kruspe, I presume. I am doctor Paul Landers, I work at the hospital’s surgical department. Thank you for having a meeting with me on such short notice. I really appreciate it.”

Taken aback by the friendliness of the surgeon, Richard fiddled nervously with his glasses. He had expected a stuck-up, cocky man who was surely going to feel superior to a random procurement officer. Yet Paul seemed to be anything but that.

Richard tried to return the smile. It felt stiff and awkward. “I’m Richard Kruspe, senior procurement officer. Good morning to you, too, doctor Landers.”

“Oh, no reason to be so formal, Herr Kruspe. Just call me Paul.” The doctor’s smile beamed through the screen. It was intoxicating.

“Paul,” Richard acknowledged, feeling the tension in his body loosen up a bit. “And you can call me Richard. Herr Kruspe always reminds me of my father.”

“Richard it is,” Paul chuckled. When he smiled, his entire face lit up. And his voice, it was so deep and soothing. He could imagine how calming it must be to hear that voice in bed - for a worried patient, _obviously_. Richard swallowed.

“So - Paul,” he started, panicking a little at how sleepy his voice sounded. Quickly grabbing his coffee mug, he took a too big sip, burning his tongue, frantically trying not to make grimaces. “Umm, uh, sorry, the coffee was a little hot,” he said, embarrassed, glancing at the man on the screen, fully expecting a judging look.

If Paul was amused by the spectacle he had put on, he was good at hiding it. A few twitches at the corner of his mouth was the only sign that Richard could see.

Having regained some composure, Richard tried again. “So, I guess I should ask why you requested this meeting?”

“I’ll get straight to the point,” Paul said. Suddenly, he looked serious and determined. “I am in need of a new medication that, unfortunately, is quite costly. The reason I wanted this meeting is to request your help in cutting a deal for one treatment.”

“What kind of medication?” Richard furrowed his brow. “The market is tricky right now. All companies are funneling money into covid-19 vaccine research, and they are reluctant to give up on money that could go into their funding. Plus with only one patient, they might not even be willing to spend time on any kind of negotiation.”

Paul’s mask slipped for a second, displaying a hint of disappointment before he quickly composed himself. “It’s not covid-19-related, I’m afraid. The medication is called SperMax. It is in its final trials right now, and has proved excellent in increasing sperm count.”

Not as good at keeping a straight face as Paul, Richard tried to hide his surprise by clumsily reaching for his coffee cup again. As in slow motion, it slipped out of his hand, and seconds later, all he felt was intense pain as the blazing hot drink spilled onto his thighs.

With a very unmanly scream he stood up. Hot coffee ran down his legs. Turning around, he grabbed a half full glass of water from the kitchen counter and poured it onto himself.

Richard’s mind barely registered the initial splutter from the speaker, but the message that followed came through loud and clear: “Shower, cool water, not too cold. Go.”

Just following orders, Richard hurried to the bathroom and went straight into the shower. The cool stream soothed his thighs. They were bright red, and they hurt quite a bit - but not more than his ego. He had just spilled coffee on himself in front of Paul god damn Landers, and he had probably even flashed him his boxer shorts just to add insult to injury.

When he finally exited the shower, Richard caught another glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked like shit. His hair was all messy, his white shirt had become wet and stuck to his chest, and the tie hung from his neck like a drowned animal. For a moment he considered changing, but he decided against it. Paul had had to wait for long enough as it was. After all, he was the one who had made a total fool out of himself. Defeated, he wetted a towel to try and keep his legs cooled off for the rest of the meeting, and went back to the kitchen to see what he could do to help the doctor.

\-- 

“He what?” Oliver’s face was one of total disbelief.

“Yep,” Paul confirmed. “No pants, just a tie and a white shirt tucked into his boxers, so when he spilled coffee on himself, he stood up and showed me his well-developed glutei maximi covered by a pair of tight reds. Then he came back from the shower all wet and with his shirt practically glued to his quite firm pectorales majores.”

“You can say nice ass and chest, you know,” Oliver remarked.

Paul glared at him. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “He did have a nice body, and a really cool hairdo, too - black hair all spiked up.”

“So not the boring procurement officer you expected, but a hot and handsome one?”

“I guess,” Paul admitted. “And speaking of hot, I am worried about his burns. He assured me his legs were okay, but I saw him grimace several times during the meeting.”

Oliver shrugged. “A classic example of the patient lying to the doctor, in other words.”

“I’m not his doctor.”

“Well - you could be… Perhaps dr. Landers could make a house call?” Oliver smirked, dodging the pen that came flying across the room. He threw his hands in the air. “Fine, I’ll stop! Did you get your SperMax at least?”

Paul sighed. “He didn’t give me much hope for that, unfortunately. Companies are spending so much on covid-19 research that they are unwilling to give up on time and money by going into negotiations for only one patient. At least he said he’d look into it and get back to me. So I’m going to need the office for a while after our surgeries tomorrow.”

“He’s coming to see the doctor?” Oliver wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh come on. He had to come in anyway, so I figured we might as well do it here.”

Oliver got an amused look on his face. “Perhaps Dr. Landers could inspect his wounds, then.”

Another pen hit the wall and fell to the floor.

\-- 

“You did what? And what happened to your hair, you look like you got struck by lightning...”

Richard was grateful that Till actually attempted to appear sympathetic, even though he easily picked up on the amusement in his friend’s tone of voice. He felt like shit as it was, but at least he was now a shit in a comfy t-shirt and loose sweatpants rather than a stiff shirt and a tie.

“I overslept, okay? So I was really stressed out before the meeting and my hair didn’t want to cooperate. Look, I didn’t plan on spilling coffee all over my legs, trust me, it still hurts like hell. I totally made a fool out of myself in front of Paul Landers.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t care,” Till said, quickly changing the subject. “Did you get someone to look at your legs?”

Richard shook his head. “I went straight into the shower like Paul said. It helped. I am pretty blistered now, but I googled burns and it told me to put on some ointment and gauze, so I did. Plus, I popped some painkillers.” He smiled weakly.

“Already on first names,“ Till smiled. “But you really should get someone to look at it.”

Richard sighed. “I have to go in tomorrow, so if it’s still bad…”

“...perhaps Dr. Landers could give you a thorough check-up!” Till giggled.

“Till!” Richard scolded. “I already showed the man my ass, I don’t need to show him any more of my body!”

Till’s loud laughter came through the speakers.

“Besides, he is looking to cut a deal for SperMax, a medication to improve sperm count. So he is very straight and probably also very taken since he is trying to have kids. I’m just not sure I can help him. None of my contacts are involved with trial medication, and you know that Bihac from that company hates my guts after that one deal that went sour.”

Richard frowned, regretting burning bridges just to save some extra money. Suddenly, that deal didn’t seem so good after all.

“You really want to help this Landers fellow, don’t you?” Till said pensively.

“I do. He really seemed to care about it. Plus it’d help make up for the terrible first impression.”

Till scratched his stubble. “Well,” he said, “I might be able to help you out. Bihac owes me one.”

“Really?” Richard felt like a lost puppy who suddenly caught a glimpse of his owner in the distance.

“On one condition.” Till grinned. “You have to promise me that you’ll ask dr. Landers - Paul - to look at your burns. It’s for your own good!”

“Till, please!” Richard tried to puppy-eye his friend, but he didn’t budge at all. It only took a few seconds before he caved. “Okay. I promise. You’d better have something good for me for this.”

\-- 

The corridor leading to the doctors’ offices seemed incredibly long. A few people in scrubs and white coats passed Richard as he made his way deeper into a realm he hadn’t visited before. The workday had gone slowly. He had barely been able to focus on the things he was supposed to do. All that had been on his mind was the meeting with Paul.

Just deciding what to wear had been a nightmare. Richard had gone for a fairly neutral look with black pants, a black shirt with the two top buttons open, and a black vest. He had also made sure that his hair was cooperative and slicked to the side rather than standing straight up.

As he got closer to the end of the corridor, he started scanning the names on the doors. Paul had told him that his office was almost at the end on the left side, and Richard soon found the door with the sign reading two names: Paul Landers and Oliver Riedel. His hand trembled a little as he lifted it and knocked.

“Come in!”

Richard opened the door and stepped into the office. It wasn’t as big as he had expected, but big enough for two desks, a table and two comfortable chairs, a few shelves, and a sink and a mirror in the corner. A huge window let light in, and the view of the hospital garden was almost breathtaking. The only odd thing was the amount of pens lying on the floor next to the far end desk.

Paul was sitting by the closest desk, wearing green scrubs and hospital clogs. He smiled broadly when Richard entered. “Nice - pants,” he grinned.

“Ehe, thanks,” Richard managed as he closed the door behind him. “I figured it was better to wear some today.”

“Looking sharp. You changed your hair, though,” Paul remarked.

Richard sighed. “Yeah - I had a pretty bad day yesterday - including a bad hair day.”

“Oh,” Paul said, clearly surprised. “I liked the hair. How are the legs?”

“Well - now that you’re mentioning it, I was actually going to ask if you could take a look at them. They are pretty blistered.” Richard was relieved that he didn’t have to bring it up first.

Paul got a concerned look on his face. “Blistered? I’ll have a look, but I think we should do that over at the clinic. I might need some equipment. Come.”

The doctor got up, and headed for the door. As he opened it, a tall, bearded man, also wearing scrubs, stood just outside. He was casually leaning against the wall at the opposite side of the rather narrow corridor, looking slightly surprised and a tiny bit guilty.

“I should have known you would be lurking around.” Paul poked his finger in the tall man’s ribs.

“Not going to introduce us?” Oliver smiled broadly.

Paul rolled his eyes. “Oliver, this is Richard Kruspe, from procurement. Richard, this is Oliver Riedel, colleague - and idiot.”

“Nice to meet you, dr. Riedel.” Richard forced a smile, a little weirded out by the whole situation.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, you can make yourself useful,” Paul said, directed at Oliver. “We’re going to the clinic, get me a burn kit while I examine the patient.”

Paul motioned for Richard to follow. The three of them headed back through the corridor. Scanning his card, two huge double doors opened up into the clinic, which seemed deserted. While Oliver went to grab equipment, Paul led Richard into an examination room.

“Take off your pants and sit down on the bench,” Paul ordered, stepping over to the sink to wash his hands.

Richard awkwardly started undressing. _I guess he’s seen this before,_ he comforted himself. Putting his pants on a chair, he sat down on the paper-covered bench. Bandages covered both his thighs.

“All right, let’s take a look.” Paul had put on gloves and a mask, and he pulled a small stool over and sat down just in front of Richard. He exuded dominance, and every single doctor fantasy Richard had ever had flashed through his head. Suddenly, he was glad he was sitting down, and that his shirt was covering his crotch.

“I have to remove your bandages, but I’ll be as careful as I can.” Paul picked up a pair of scissors from a tray. With trained hands, he cut the bandages and gently lifted them up to expose the burns. Both of Richard’s thighs were bright red. There were blisters on both, mostly small, but also a few big ones.

While Paul took a closer look, Richard tried to think about anything but Paul’s fingers on his skin. He intently studied some posters on the walls, and when Oliver entered with a surgical trolley, he tried to focus on that until Paul seemed to be done examining him.

“Is it bad?” Richard asked, a bit overwhelmed by the amount of equipment on the trolley.

“It seems like you have done a pretty good job with minimising the damage. Most of these burns are first degree only, but there are parts that have second degree burns. It is a bit hard to tell how deep the damage goes. I will need to drain the biggest blisters as they may break otherwise. When you get home, you should keep your legs elevated, and you will need some follow-ups to check for damage depth as it can change over the first few days.”

Oliver placed the trolley next to Paul, who picked up a syringe. Richard’s eyes widened. “I am just going to use this to drain the blisters, so it should not hurt,” Paul soothed. “When did you last get a tetanus shot?”

“Um… No idea.” Richard shrugged.

“Then you will need a tetanus boost. Olli, can you get one for me, please?”

Oliver quickly disappeared out the door.

“So - any news about the medication we talked about yesterday?” Paul asked as he dried off fluid from the punctured blister.

Richard was relieved to be able to take his mind off Paul sitting just in front of him touching his legs. “Yeah - I have good news, actually. A friend of mine was able to call in a favour, so we got a really good deal on SperMax. It should be well within your budget.”

Paul’s face lit up. “That’s fantastic!” he beamed. “Thank you so much!”

“I’ll get the details later today, I’ll send them to you as soon as I’ve got them. And no problem at all, I’m happy for you and honoured to be able to help you with this.”

Paul got a slightly puzzled look on his face and opened his mouth as if to say something, but he was interrupted by Oliver who came back with the tetanus shot. The tall man put the syringe down on the tray. “Need anything else?” he asked.

“No, that should be it.” Paul shook his head. “Thanks for the help, Olli.”

“All right then, I’ll leave you two to it. Nice to meet you.” He smiled at Richard before leaving the room again.

The room went silent as Paul drained the last blister and reached for the bandages. “I am going to put some Mepitel One on your wounds - it’s a type of inner bandage that won’t stick, and it can sit on even if you need to change the outer bandage. Then I’ll put on some light compression, if you think it’s uncomfortable, you can loosen it up.”

Richard nodded, eyeing the tetanus shot with a worried look on his face. “And the shot,” he mumbled, “where…” He blushed, shifting uneasily on the bench.

Paul chuckled. “Don’t worry. It goes in your arm.”

\-- 

“So, did you get the SperMax?” Oliver smirked as Paul entered the office. “And when are you seeing him again?”

“Calm down, Riedel,” Paul grunted. “Yes, he was able to call in a favour. And for your second question: Probably never.”

Oliver looked puzzled. “How come? Aren’t you going to do check-ups on him? With those burns, standard procedure would be…”

“I know what standard procedure is,” Paul interrupted brusquely. “I walked him out, but as soon as we got to the lobby, he left so quickly that it seemed like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

“What happened?” Oliver asked, concerned.

“Nothing happened. Herr Schneider’s wife came in just as we got down there, I just greeted her, told her I had some news, and that I’d be up later. It didn’t take more than a few seconds, but Richard seemed uncomfortable and quickly thanked me, said he’d see his own doctor for check-ups, and took off before I could reply. Maybe he felt awkward about being with me around other people since I’m openly gay.” Paul looked miserable.

Oliver scratched his beard. “Did you ever tell him who the SperMax was for?”

“Of course not, that’s confidential information.”

“Paul…” Oliver sighed, burying his face in his palm. “Did it ever cross your mind that he might think the SperMax is for you?”

“No, I…” Gears clicked into place in Paul’s head. He went quiet. “Oh.”

Oliver got a stern look on his face. “Paul Landers, you’re going to Richard Kruspe’s house right now to explain yourself and offer him a medical follow-up. I’ll drag you there myself if I have to. And you’d better get him a nice gift for his help.”

“B-b-but…” Paul stuttered.

“No butts - unless it’s Richard’s. I’ll look up his address and text it to you. I’ll also write our surgery reports from today, so you go and get changed. Now!”

Paul started protesting, but decided against it. “Thanks, Olli,” he mumbled, and headed out.

\-- 

“You just left?!” Till both looked and sounded annoyed.

“His wife showed up, she was damn beautiful, and the situation was already awkward enough to begin with!” Richard removed his glasses and rubbed his face.

“Richard…” Till sounded even more annoyed. “Did you ever read any articles about Paul Landers? Or did you just drool at photos of him?”

Richard put his glasses back on and gave Till the deadliest stare he could muster. “The fuck, Till. I’m not a stalker.”

Till lifted a glass that seemed suspiciously like a drink. “Well, if you had, then you would have known that he is gay.”

“What…?” It felt like someone had poured cold water straight into Richard’s veins.

“I have to look out for you since you’re not doing it yourself! Turns out he had a really bad break with his long-time partner a few years ago. The guy had been violent and threatened to kill him. This was before he got famous, but it was so bad that it made the press even back then.” Till took a sip from his glass.

Richard stared blankly at the screen for a minute. Then he reached for the fridge, pulled out a beer, opening it with a lighter lying on the table.

“He complimented my pants and my hair from yesterday. I thought he was trying to be funny after I totally made a fool out of myself in the meeting.” Richard took a big drink from the beer bottle.

“He complimented that hair? Damn, he must really like you.”

“Not anymore.” Richard took another swig. “I totally blew him off by just leaving. He must think I hate him.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” Till comforted. “Want me to come over?”

Richard huffed. “Don’t you dare. Just send me the details from Bihac once you get them. I’m going to get drunk and wallow in my own misery. I think I deserve that after these two shitty days. Talk to you tomorrow.”

With that, he reached for the mouse and ended the call.

\-- 

The beer was cold, the sofa was comfortable, and a mindless tv show helped take his mind off his pain and misery. Richard had kicked off his pants and thrown a light blanket over his slightly elevated legs, but his thighs were throbbing, and since he had already started drinking, he didn’t want to add painkillers into the mix.

He had just opened another beer when the doorbell rang. “Fucking Till,” he mumbled angrily as he crawled out of the sofa and headed for the door, ripping it open. “I told you I didn’t want you to come over!”

A very surprised and very confused Paul Landers stood outside the door. He was holding a bag and a bouquet of flowers. “Um, eh - I don’t think you mentioned that,” he managed. “Nice - bandages.”

Richard looked at Paul, then down at his own bare legs, and then back at Paul. “I don’t normally walk around without pants,” he mumbled. “For some reason you just seem to catch me when I am.”

“Don’t worry, I see people without pants all the time.” Paul laughed nervously. “Can I come in?”

Stepping aside, Richard opened the door and let Paul in. “Didn’t know doctors made house calls these days.”

“We don’t, well, at least not hospital doctors. I just wanted to thank you properly for your help, since you had to leave so quickly today. I brought you something as a thank you.” He awkwardly held out the bouquet of pink, peach, and yellow roses. “The lady at the flower shop said these symbolised gratitude. I’m not good at flowers.”

It was a beautiful bouquet. “That’s really nice of you. Thank you,” Richard said, smelling the roses.

“I also brought you some dinner. If you want, I can prepare it for you while you rest.” Paul looked hopeful. “But if you prefer to be alone…”

Richard looked at the bag in Paul’s hand. It held the logo of his favourite restaurant. He hadn’t eaten much, and he felt his mouth starting to water. “You know - a well-respected doctor has told me to keep my legs elevated. I think I should follow the doctor’s orders, so since you’re offering...”

Crow’s feet fanned out and lit up Paul’s face as he put the bag down to take off his coat and his shoes. “As a doctor, I would advise you to listen to that doctor,” he smiled.

Richard couldn’t help returning the smile. “Well then, I’d better put these flowers in water and get back to the sofa. I hope you brought enough food for two.”

Paul shrugged innocently. “I might have.”

\-- 

The room was warm, the beer was cold, and the sofa was comfortable. Richard leaned back against a warm chest, savouring the feeling of skin against skin, purring contentedly as Paul ruffled his spiked up hair. The burns on his thighs had healed a long time ago, but the skin was slightly scarred, though now, Richard considered that a fond memory more than anything else.

Emptying his bottle, he stretched his neck and stood up. “Want another?” he asked, looking at his partner who seemed to be very busy staring at his red boxers - or rather, at what they covered.

“Is there something wrong with my butt, doctor?” he grinned, shaking his ass a little.

“I just need to keep my anatomy knowledge up to date,” Paul chuckled.

“So funny, I’m in stitches,” Richard said dryly, bending down to place a kiss on Paul’s forehead. “I’m getting another beer for myself at least.”

“You can procure me a beer, too,” Paul smiled, glancing lovingly at Richard who stuck out his tongue and kept shaking his butt on the way to the kitchen.

Once Richard was out of sight, Paul leaned back, grabbed the remote control, and started flipping through channels until something caught his eye on a music channel. It was Christoph Schneider and his wife, visibly pregnant, both of them beaming with joy. Quickly, he turned up the sound.

“...we have tried for years and I thought we would never have children, but thanks to the doctors at the Charité, especially the fantastic dr. Paul Landers who went above and beyond for me, our dream will come true. I am so grateful. We are so grateful.” He smiled warmly at his wife.

The host of the show showed up on the screen. “We are very happy for you both, thank you so much for coming. As usual, we will end this show with a song. Do you have a wish for us?”

The camera switched to Schneider’s smiling face. “I would like to dedicate the song to dr. Landers,” he said. “Unfortunately, my band doesn’t have a lot of songs that fit the situation, but I have chosen one called Laichzeit.”

“Laichzeit it is. Thank you again, Christoph Schneider.”

The song kicked in. Turning his head, Paul saw that Richard had returned to the living room with the two beers. “Laichzeit for dr. Landers, eh?” Richard grinned as he put the bottles on the table and sat down, resting his cold hands on Paul’s tummy, earning a tiny ‘eep’ from the doctor who quickly swatted his hands away.

Though Paul’s smile was soon back, along with a familiar fire in the grey eyes. “Laichzeit for dr. Landers means Laichzeit for someone else too, you know.”

His trained fingers trailed across Richard’s chest, flicking at the nipples, making Richard inhale sharply. Then Paul pulled his partner down into a long, hot kiss.

  


_ENDE GUT, ALLES GUT_

**Author's Note:**

> I took a chance and wrote an AU to surprise my recipient, which very much threw me out of my comfort zone and made me question the fiction during the entire writing process. It turned out quite silly, but hopefully also enjoyable. Any feedback is welcome. Thank you for reading!


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